Gently instruct those who oppose the truth. Perhaps God will change those people's hearts, and they will learn the truth. 2nd Timothy 2:25 ♥ Let Jesus speak gently to your heart

The Fear of Not Mattering

I think that perhaps the fear of not mattering is one of our biggest all time fears. It’s the root of many of our problems and the way we attempt to deal with it, well… it only makes it worse. The following is from Max Lucado’s book, Fearless, which is available on Amazon for Kindle for only $1.99. (Don’t you just love all the free or, at least cheap, books you can get now that we have devices like Kindles?? Yesss!!!)

Perhaps you don’t know,
then, maybe you do,
about Stiltsville, and the Village,
(so strange but so true)

where people like we, some tiny, some tall, with jobs and kids and clocks on the wall

keep an eye on the time, For each evening at six, they meet in the square for the purpose of sticks, tall stilts upon which

Stiltsvillians can strut
and be lifted above
those down in the rut:

the less and the least,
the Tribe of Too Smalls,
the not cools and have-nots
who want to be tall

but can’t, because in the giving of sticks, their name was not called. The didn’t get picked.

Yet still they come when villagers gather; they press to the front to see if they Matter

to the clique of the cool, the court of high clout, that decides who is special and declares with a shout,

You’re classy! You’re pretty! You’re clever or Funny! And bequeath a prize, not of medals or money,

not a freshly baked pie or a house someone built, but the oddest of gifts– a gift of some stilts.

Moving up is their mission, going higher their aim. Elevate your position is the name the their game.

The higher-ups of Stilsville (you know if you’ve been there) make the biggest to-do of the sweetness of this air.

They relish the chance on their high apparatus to strut on their stilts, the ultimate status.

For isn’t life best when viewed from the top? Unless you stumble and suddenly are not

so sure of your footing. You tilt and then sway, Look out bel-o-o-o-w! and you fall straightaway

into the Too Smalls, hoi polloi of the earth. You land on your pride- oh boy how it hurts

when the chic police in the jilt of all jilts, don’t offer to help but instead take your stilts.

Who made you king? you start to complain but then notice the hour and forget your refrain

It’s almost six!
No time for chatter.
It’s back to the crowd
to see if you matter.